


Those Eyes Could Cut Mountains

by farrah_yondale



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Almyra (Fire Emblem), Almyran Culture, Almyran Worldbuilding, Alternate Universe, Crimson Flower/Verdant Wind, F/M, Harem, Political Marriage, the normal kind not the horny white people kind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:20:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24300484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farrah_yondale/pseuds/farrah_yondale
Summary: The Empire and the Church are at a stalemate. Emperor Edelgard turns to Almyra for aid in the war effort.AU where Claude never went to Garreg Mach but his dreams are still the same.(Claude is 25-ish)
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 9
Kudos: 85





	Those Eyes Could Cut Mountains

**Author's Note:**

> Originally, this was planned out to be a long multichapter fic and a very ambitious rewrite of a “Crimson Wind” route, but trying to fix FE3H’s plotline is like trying to stack a deck of cards in a hurricane, so I eventually gave up after like 20k words. I really loved what I wrote, though, so I wanted to post it in some form. This is the doctored version that focuses mainly on Edelgard and Claude’s relationship, and while it unfortunately doesn’t conclude neatly, I hope you all enjoy it anyway. Just pretend they learned to trust each other and fell in love (though, not really because I see Edelgard as a lesbian, HAH).
> 
> The only warnings for this fic are mentions of sex and some slight body horror in a dream towards the end.

I.

There were very few times an opportunity fell right into Claude’s lap. Most of the time, he had to fight tooth and nail for it, pry and prod every secret from every noble to get what he wanted, use every opening for a persuasive dialogue.

But today, he woke up, and all his dreams sat right in his hands.

A letter, written in his mother’s language. It contained a marriage proposal. But more than that, it contained an opportunity. It was forthright and blunt. The woman—Edelgard von Hresvelg—didn’t seem to care much for her feelings or his. She provided a partnership. A mutual exchange. His troops for her diplomacy. She did not weave sweet lies into its letters. She was honest about Fodlan’s war, that she and the Church were at a stalemate. That perhaps the war she wrought was an act of desperation. That perhaps she needed his support more than he needed hers. She was not the true leader of Fodlan, not right now. He would have supported a rebel group more than a queen.

And he appreciated that. He could not stand a liar. He could not stand the leader of Dagda who’d tried to coax into him a pointless war and convince him it would be “a coward’s act” to not provide support.

“Khalid _joon_ , what has you so lost in thought?”

Jawaher’s hand was petting his hair before he could protest the matter. He’d been a king for two years now, but it didn’t change his half-sister’s doting nature. In private, he was happy for it, but in public, it made for incredible embarrassment.

 _Personal_ embarrassment, if he was being truthful. The women of the harem had always regarded him as their son or little brother. None of them would protest a mother’s hands rubbing oil in his hair while the rest of the women nursed their babies or stitched. Powerful men weren’t allowed in these quarters, so they were free to preen and baby him without ruining his reputation among men.

Claude handed his sister the letter, which she scanned before chewing her lips in thought.

“Will you accept?” she asked with a smile. She could be teasing, annoying even, but he knew that brain of hers was more calculating and perceptive than his own. She knew better than to tease him about a matter like this.

“I may,” he said, accepting the letter and rolling it back up. “I’d like to meet her first.”

“Of course,” Jawaher sang with a glint in her eyes. “You wouldn’t want to marry an ugly bride.”

“ _Abje_ ,” Claude sighed, and Jawaher laughed. He ignored her after that, rummaging for a pen and paper to draft a letter of his own.

“What are you doing, _bachu_?”

“Writing my answer to her.”

“Without consulting any of your advisors?” Jawaher asked in mock surprise.

“Abje, you know it’s not my nature to disclose my schemes.”

“Your schemes? Only you’d call marriage a scheme.”

“Whereas you’d call it a scam.”

Jawaher relented with a wry smile. “Too true.”

Claude had heard it was a tradition of Fodlan to chat over tea, and seeing Her Majesty confident but relaxed—back straight, legs crossed, tea in hand and eyes closed as she savored the taste—he could see why. The little quirks of her body were a series of tells that gave him insight to her reasons for being here. The way she held her cup (slightly trembling, but not out of fear—was it an injury?), sat in her chair (she was used to being waited on), the amount of sugar she took (none) and how she met his gaze (completely unflinching—those eyes could cut mountains in half) were all writing on the wall for an enemy to take notes of.

“You’re trying to figure me out,” Edelgard said, eyes still closed. When Claude was silent, she opened them, and he leaned back into his chair, smiling.

“Of course,” he answered easily. “I don’t just surrender my troops to anyone who asks, you know.”

“Of course,” she responded mildly, taking another sip of her tea. Quite the confidence for someone at his mercy.

Claude’s hands gripped either sides of his chair. He gestured towards her. “Well, you’re here to convince me, aren’t you? So convince me.”

Edelgard smiled wryly. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”

“Really? What makes you think I’d hand my armies over to you? Frankly, Almyra could easily invade Fodlan when it’s so busy infighting. What makes you so sure we won’t just take this opportunity for our gain?”

Edelgard smiled again. Why did Claude feel like he was losing when they weren’t even fighting?

“I don’t think you’d do that.”

He was amused by her faith in him. Strange. It was always his enemies who believed in him the most, it seemed. He laughed slightly. “What makes you say that?”

“I’ve heard great things about you, Khalid pur Arash.” (If nothing else, he was impressed she pronounced that correctly) “That your heroism knows no bounds. Not only are you formidable in battle, but your intellect remains unchallenged. Your citizens praise your sense of justice and your protection of the weak, most of all. A widow with five children came to you once and before you even heard her out, you had her settled into her own room at the palace, where she was able to grieve and raise her children in peace. I heard she’s even become an esteemed dancer at your court now.”

“Your Majesty!” Claude teased. “Are you trying to butter me up?”

Edelgard laughed at that. But it was only a few seconds of triumph before she was back to business, “Besides, you seem like the type of man to have spies everywhere. I can’t imagine my letter is what tipped you off to Fodlan’s war.”

“Indeed,” Claude replied. “I have known for a while. But I wouldn’t call them my spies.”

“Your ties?”

“So you’ve had me looked into, have you?” It was the back and forth of two rulers trying to gauge one another. Friendly enough on the surface, but it may as well have been a game of chess. Claude thought, briefly, that at least she was a fun opponent.

“I’m intrigued. I’ve looked into you myself.”

“And what’s your verdict?”

Edelgard smiled again. “Your family is as interesting as you.”

Claude leaned forward and held his head in his hand. “Not as interesting as yours.”

“Oh?” It was the first time that face betrayed any shock.

“But I won’t speak of it,” and saw her shoulders relax. “I imagine a story like that is a tender subject. And we’re not at the level of camaraderie that I’d expect you to share.”

“I take it that means you expect to see me again?” And hopefulness now. Even more surprising. “On friendly terms?”

“Perhaps.” Claude laced his fingers together and rested his chin over them. “But there is one thing I’d like to ask you before I give you my answer. I’ve heard what’s been said about you and your goals, but I’d rather ask you myself. Why did you start this war?”

Edelgard paused. And thought. And set down her tea on the table for the first time. For a second, Claude thought he’d angered her, until he realized that anger was not directed at him. He knew that anger. The type that accompanied a misuse of power, of injustice wrought upon people who had no say in their sentences.

“I don’t know what you know of Fodlan’s history. But for far too long, the nobility of the country have misused their power through the Crest system. They cull children and breed them like stock, as if they’re cattle for consumption and not humans with their own desires and wishes. Those who have Crests are treated like small gods, sought after and prayed to, as if their mere bloodline would save them. And the head of all this oppression is the Church of Seiros, headed by Archbishop Rhea.”

Claude nodded and let her swallow. Her eyes were devoid of color, but he’d never seen a fire like it before. Save for perhaps in a mirror.

“I started this war because I wish to end that system. It has harmed me personally, but also those I hold dear. It is the reason the nobility look down upon the common folk. It is the reason our country has never had a real relationship with Almyra,” she added, a little sadly. “The Church of Seiros was found on the notion of a Goddess who blessed Fodlan, and that a country like Almyra was filled with nothing but beasts who had no guidance towards the light. That is why…that is why I started the war.”

“I know what my detractors might say. That I use unnecessary violence. They may call me a tyrant and perhaps I am. But this is the only path I see leading to justice. Rhea would not allow talk. She does not even allow books with contrary information to sit in her libraries. And I…I intend to step down once I’ve achieved my goals.”

That, of all things, surprised Claude. Perhaps it was just pretty words, but her speech had genuine honesty written into it. And frankly, not even Claude was that good of an actor. If she was lying, he deserved to be duped.

A ruler who intended to step down? At least he knew this wasn’t a bid for power.

“I see. That’s a good answer…” Claude said, leaning back in his chair. He gave himself pause and felt a mischievous side of him bubble up. “But I’m not going to lend you my armies.”

For a brief moment, Claude thought he saw her shoulders drop and a willful protest glaze her eyes. And Claude wasn’t going to lie. He quite enjoyed seeing it.

“I’m going to join you.”

II.

 _I’m going to join you_.

Edelgard felt her heart gallop like a giddy schoolgirl’s. How interesting. That his words would fill her with so much joy. It couldn’t have just been his agreement to aid her, because his rejection would have only meant opening avenues to other countries: Dagda, Morfis, Albinea. Maybe she was just a fool underneath it all, caught up in all the pretty lies his country told about him. But something in his demeanor, as guarded as it was, felt genuine.

Edelgard curled her fingers around the handle of her teacup. “I’m happy to hear you say that,” she said mildly.

“You’re _thrilled_ ,” Claude corrected, and Edelgard couldn’t help but laugh. He held his finger up, like a chiding father. “On _one_ condition, however.”

“Oh, no, I knew it was too good to be true.”

He spoke over her chuckle, “You offered a partnership, so I expect to be treated like a partner in all things. Whatever decisions we make on the battlefield will be made together. They are still my armies, so you’ll be using them on my terms.”

“Fair enough,” she replied calmly, though she felt anything but. Agreeing to his terms felt like falling for a trap. “So I take it you’re saying yes to my marriage proposal?”

“About that.” Claude crossed his legs and leaned into his hand. “I thought we should discuss it first.”

“Oh? What would you like to discuss?”

“I’ll just get to the point. Are we going to have sex?”

Edelgard tried not to choke on her tea. She could practically feel Hubert’s eyes burning a hole into the wall behind her from the other room, as if he had somehow sensed her sudden discomfort.

“I…” She cleared her throat. “I’d honestly prefer not to. But if you’d rather—”

“No need,” Claude said, raising his hand. “Though, that leads me to question why you’d choose to send out a marriage proposal in the first place.”

“It’s not what I want, but other men seem to place a high value on it. I am a woman, and I’ve no problem using my womanhood as leverage.” Edelgard smiled. “But you don’t seem like that kind of man.”

“Are you withdrawing your proposal then?” She thought she heard him whine.

“Of course not. You’re still not a man I trust. See it as a contract, if you will. Should I need your aid, you’d be obliged to come to your wife’s rescue. I’m sure it would reflect poorly on you to abandon me.”

Claude hummed and leaned back with a pitiful look on his face. It sounded like another whine.

“Are you so disappointed?” Edelgard asked when he remained silent.

“A little. You are _very_ stunning, Your Majesty. I wouldn’t want to miss an opportunity like that. I’m more disappointed I didn’t live up to your standards.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that.” Edelgard raised an eyebrow and gave him a confident smile. “You’re very handsome. My reasons aren’t quite as superficial.”

“I see. Then, what are those reasons?”

Edelgard sipped at her tea. “Make me fall in love with you and maybe you’ll find out.”

“Ooh, a mystery and a challenge, you’re just my type.”

Edelgard laughed.

There was silence after that as they finished their tea. Edelgard was surprised at how comfortable a silence it was. She expected Claude to stare at her more, but he seemed to have his fill of trying to decipher her and chose to stare at whatever else caught his fancy around them.

Downing the last of his tea, Claude asked, “Would you like to be escorted to your quarters, then?”

“My…” Edelgard raised a hand to cover the flush over her face. She smiled. “You were planning on saying yes this whole time?”

Claude gave her a grin. “Well, I wouldn’t say I’d decided on it completely. Of course, if you’d turned out to be a tyrant, I’d have refused. But I also didn’t plan on turning a guest away without at least staying the night.”

She hadn’t noticed it until now with the façade of mischief in them, but Claude’s eyes were a deep green—intelligent, calculating and…something else. There was something else behind those eyes that Edelgard recognized, as if she were looking into a mirror at her own eyes.

Those eyes could cut mountains in half.

After they’d discussed at length the details of the wedding, Edelgard retired for the night. She was led down a secluded hallway guarded by an entirely female staff and tried to focus on her host despite how much her eyes wandered towards the regalia surrounding her.

“You’ll be staying in the harem,” Claude had said. “The women’s only quarters,” he interpreted when Edelgard didn’t recognize the word. “Only male relatives are allowed in there typically, but I’ve settled you in a more secluded area, so if any of your retainers are men, they can visit you. Just make sure you notify the guards so they can let them pass.”

Edelgard hadn’t had a chance to ask Claude all the questions burning on her tongue because they’d parted ways, but he’d deferred them to her host Pari.

Claude had assured her that Pari was helpful and sweet when she wanted to be, but Pari’s face was severe and cunning, and Edelgard assumed her status as a dancer of the court didn’t exactly nurture the sweet side of her personality.

“Why do Almyran royal women stay in harems?” Edelgard asked.

“Because we don’t want men bothering us,” Pari huffed curtly, though Edelgard assumed that frustration wasn’t directed at her. A little more softly, she went on, “I suppose it’s just the way we do things here. I can’t imagine walking around with my status now and men ogling me everywhere. How do Fodlan nobles walk out with men staring at them all the time?”

“I wouldn’t really know, to be honest. Men usually look at me with fear or jealousy. Not so much lust.”

Pari stopped walking and stared at her for a second. “It’s because of the way you’re dressed,” she said, smiling. “I like it.”

From that moment on, Pari and Edelgard got along splendidly.

Pari was terrifying in her own right, of course, Edelgard would later find. It came as no surprise. The harem was cutthroat, as much as Claude would later insist he tried to change it. Centuries of women vying for power, building a culture and a competition wholly their own. Reform wouldn’t come as easily in the realm of women as it would in his realm.

“The harem has its own hierarchy,” Pari explained. It was late in the afternoon, and traditionally it was the time most Almyrans would nap. Pari seemingly the exception. She threw herself over Edelgard’s bed as if it were her own with a tray of sweets in her hands. “The politics of it are as complex as any country’s. Claude’s mother Tiana would normally take the head of it, but because she’s not Almyran and frankly didn’t want to deal with all the drama, she deferred it to Arash’s first wife Rudabah.”

Pari inspected and plucked pieces of glazed dough into her hands. After she swallowed the fourth, she offered one to Edelgard.

“What is it?”

“ _Bamieh_ ,” Pari answered promptly. “Fried dough soaked in syrup. Have one.”

She took it and swallowed it hesitantly. Her eyes brightened. “This is really good!”

When Edelgard reached for another, Pari recoiled, stretching the tray far away from Edelgard’s grasp. “Sorry, reflex,” she said sheepishly and offered Edelgard another. After a couple of seconds of loud chewing and a visible swallow, she spoke again. “You’re not like Claude. He doesn’t really like sweets.”

“Is that so?” Edelgard was endlessly amused by Pari’s bluntness. She expected guardedness from all of Claude’s staff and country folk, given that she was a foreigner and possibly a threat.

“The only time I’d ever seen him with a tray of sweets was when he proposed to me.”

“Wait,” Edelgard interrupted. She’d never been much of a gossip, but even she couldn’t resist information like that. “He proposed to you?”

Pari swallowed another sweet, nodding. “When we were thirteen. It’s a ritual employed by _suhaqiya_ so Claude was just imitating his sister without knowing what it meant.”

Edelgard paused on the word. “Suha…qiya?”

“Uhhh,” Pari droned, trying to find the right explanation. “Women who are only interested in other women.”

“Ah,” Edelgard responded in understanding.

“Thank God he didn’t add the dildo on top as is customary because that would have been _far_ more embarrassing for both of us.”

“I see you’ve spared no chance sharing all my secrets with Edelgard.”

Pari squealed and jumped at the sound of Claude’s voice, dropping her tray with a clatter to the floor. Thankfully, she’d consumed the majority of sweets sitting on it, so it didn’t make quite as much of a mess on Edelgard’s bedroom floor.

“I was going to send someone to call you for dinner,” Claude went on, ignoring Pari’s hurried attempts to gather herself. “But I was afraid Pari would intimidate them away, so I decided to come personally. Lady Dorothea has already made herself comfortable and will be joining us shortly.”

“Sounds like Dorothea,” Edelgard said with a smile. “Lead the way, _Shahanshah_.”

The papers were signed by nightfall.

Claude would probably go down in history for the king with the shortest _khastegari_ in Almyra.

He would go against his advisors, but he would not go against his mother. Tradition was tradition and while he didn’t always respect those traditions, he respected his mother enough to let her have a decision in his marriage.

Her only point of disapproval? That she was from Fodlan.

“Mama, you’re from Fodlan,” he had said.

“Yes,” Tiana von Riegan had replied unflinchingly. “And that’s how I know all their women are—” She had chosen an Almyran phrase for her expletive. Roughly translated, it would have meant something like “dogs with their anuses inverted”. Despite it being her second language, Tiana used Almyran with exceptional creativity.

If Edelgard had been offended, she hadn’t shown it on her face.

In the end, however, his mother had approved. Thus, they sat here, in his personal quarters over a desk whose surface Claude hadn’t seen in nearly a decade.

“Shah,” one of his advisors had sighed, eyeing the desk stacked with books and the floor scattered with more books. “Please keep your quarters clean.”

“Quiet, Cyril,” Claude had chided. “If I’d known we’d be signing a marriage license in my quarters, I would have cleaned the place for Her Majesty.”

“You should keep it clean regardless.”

But the documents were signed and that was that. It was entirely unceremonious. Claude half-expected _someone_ to clap.

“Should we kiss?” he asked Edelgard after a few beats of silence.

She hadn’t a chance to rebut, because an unwelcome party had arrived by then and felt the need to speak over both of them.

“If this lout feels the need to impose himself upon you, I’d have no qualms tearing his heart out of his chest for you, Your Majesty.”

Claude didn’t find it amusing because the man in question was a tall, spindly thing that resembled a corpse, like he’d just been woken from his coffin hours earlier after nearly a century of sleep. His hair was dark and wavy, and his skin pale as marble.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” he went on, giving Edelgard a short bow. “I attempted to meet with you earlier, but the guards would not let me through.”

“Well, no wonder, the guards wouldn’t let you through,” Cyril interrupted. “You look like a snake.”

Claude gave an undignified snort which he hurriedly turned into a cough.

As somewhat of a relief, Edelgard looked like she was trying to bite down a laugh. “Hubert, there’s no need to threaten my husband. He’s quite the gentleman.”

Hubert’s eyes shifted from Edelgard to Claude. Claude was hardly the type of person to be intimidated so easily, but his eyes were a shocking shade of yellow and Cyril’s comparison to a snake was appropriate for the type of cunning gaze on Claude right now.

“I should hope so,” Hubert replied cryptically.

A dull wedding ceremony accompanied by a dull wedding night.

Edelgard would not curse her boredom, however, when boredom was a reprieve from war and much more preferable to all the less palatable scenarios she’d imagined. Claude had offered her chamomile tea to help her sleep and she’d accepted it to calm her nerves. But she had no plans to sleep tonight. If her nightmares plagued her and she woke up screaming, she’d only poke a hole in the armor of invincibility she’d donned in front of him.

She sank deep into the armchair by the fire, enjoying the quiet. Her head was heavy with frantic thoughts and yet sleep began to tug her eyes shut.

A knock rapped on her bedroom door and she bolted upright.

“May I come in?” came Claude’s voice.

“Of course,” she replied immediately, adjusting her seat. Claude entered, and she continued bitterly, “Though, I don’t see why you need to ask my permission. You are my husband after all.”

“What’s the frown for, Your Majesty?” If anything helped, it was seeing the chess board tucked under his arm. “Weren’t you just calling me a gentleman earlier this evening?”

Edelgard ignored him, eyes widening with amusement. “You want to play chess?”

“Actually, I would have preferred backgammon, but I don’t suppose those rules are as commonly known in Fodlan as chess.”

She leaned her head back, closing her eyes. “I’m tired, _Shahanshah_. Wouldn’t you rather kiss me and tuck me into bed?”

Claude laughed softly, placing the chess board on the coffee table. He kneeled in front of her, taking her hand in his and gazed up at her intently. His eyes were a deep green, she noted with a faint deal of fascination. They shimmered in the fire light so beautifully she began to think clinically of love songs and books of poetry and how well-suited he was to a fairy tale. How kind fate had been to her, for her to be at the mercy of a man as handsome as him.

“May I?” he asked, in clear reference to the gloves still donned over her hands.

Edelgard nodded her assent. He slipped them off as delicately as he might undress the rest of her, slow and deliberate and considerate of her modesty. The thought of him unbuttoning her tunic with the same delicacy made her shiver.

Claude leaned into her hand and kissed the back of it. If he found the scars over her skin repulsive, he said nothing of it.

Edelgard’s heart fluttered at the gesture. How…silly. The reaction amused her as much as it disturbed her. Her finger brushed the side of his beard, petting at him with anticipation. To her astonishment, Claude blushed furiously. He receded like the tide, intense and direct at first and then suddenly coy. Edelgard couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

She imagined the reaction embarrassed him further.

Claude cleared his throat. “Shall we play chess?”

He gave her the courtesy of moving first. Admittedly, Edelgard hadn’t played chess in a long while when battle drained enough of her mental capabilities. She’d rather spend her free time resting or doing mindless activities. Despite that, she played well enough to keep up with Claude.

“Hmm,” he mused, chin in hand. His brows were furrowed, his eyes narrowed intently in thought. It was…cute. The blush had only just begun to spread over her cheeks when Claude’s eyes widened and focused on something behind her.

“Oh my God, is that a rat?” he cried out.

Edelgard screeched, knocking the chess board over in her haste to jump away. She was clinging to Claude before she could stop herself, face buried in his neck like an ostrich in the sand. Claude fell back from the weight of her with a hearty laugh.

“Wow. I only meant to distract you so I could switch the chess board pieces. It seems my strategy went horribly awry.”

“Shah!” she burst out like a petulant child. Her image as a proud emperor had been sullied before her first nightmare. She wanted to scream again. Hubert’s original plan of poisoning him was beginning to sound more appealing.

“I’m sorry!” he laughed. “Had I known you were terrified of rats, I would have refrained. My apologies. I suppose you are a Fodlan noble through and through.”

Edelgard pouted. She could not tell him the truth, no matter how much it wounded her pride.

More importantly, she realized her arms were gripped around his neck, and his around her waist. She was sitting in his lap. Odder still was that neither of them had any compunctions about the matter. Their proximity felt as natural as anything else, and Edelgard, more than anything, was incredibly intrigued at the idea.

Still, they parted and seated themselves back on their respective armchairs.

Edelgard was quick to place the chess pieces back on the board. “I will get you for this, Shah,” she vowed.

Claude laughed.

III.

Here she was, in the same void she always woke in. This was hell. This was the beginning and the end of the universe. This was where she’d go when she died, surrounded by darkness and the weight of death.

 _At least_ , she always thought, a little sliver of hope in her heart, _if this is where I go, I make sure no one else follows_. It was what kept her from screaming.

The night sky, devoid of stars, opened up and reached out for her. Dozens of black gloved hands, large and greedy grabbing at her like corrupt kings scurrying at pieces of fractured territory. But these were no kings. Kings, she could fight. Kings, she could outsmart. Kings, she could be charmed by while she smiled over tea and think, _Perhaps they’re not all so bad_. This was darkness. Those hands had taken all her siblings and they would take her too.

It was only a matter of when.

Edelgard jerked awake. She was in a bed, to her horror. She scrambled onto her belly, pushing herself to sitting up.

Claude was not in bed with her or in the chair she’d last seen him in. He sat cross-legged on the balcony, apparently meditating.

Her heart was knocking hard against her ribs, the rush of blood loud in her ears. Between the fright of her nightmare and the fear that Claude might have witnessed her thrashing in her sleep, she could hardly contain its rhythm.

Edelgard thought it best not to call attention to him and rubbed at her eyes. She was still wearing the tunic and trousers she’d been wearing before. Only her slippers had been discarded off to the side.

“I didn’t move you.” Edelgard turned away from the empty fireplace and back to the balcony. Claude had finished apparently, folding the blanket at his side into quarters. She noticed the pillow and the mat at his side then. Had he slept on the ground last night? “Jawaher put you to sleep.”

“We’re married,” Edelgard replied pointedly to his defensiveness.

“Politically, yes. But I still respect a woman’s boundaries. I won’t touch you unless you give me your consent. And frankly, right now, I understand things are contentious between us.”

It seemed the sparks of chemistry between them last night had flickered out. To her eyes, he was Khalid pur Arash again, the esteemed, untouchable king of Almyra, her husband in name only and a rival she could place none of her trust in.

“Wash up and get dressed. We’ve a lot to discuss.”

She eyed the cotton embroidered dress over the armchair. “Shall I wear Almyran or Fodlan clothes?”

Claude laughed slightly. “It’s up to you. But I’ll leave you to it. If you need help, you can holler for Pari. She’ll be waiting for you outside.”

Edelgard opted for the familiar Fodlan clothes. She’d no desire to make a fool of herself right now, especially when she’d done enough of that screaming about a rat into Claude’s arms last night. In a tunic and trousers, she felt more herself. More in charge.

Escorted by Pari, she met Claude in a modestly-sized room. Large enough to hold a meeting, but not so large as to entertain an audience. She sat on the floor across from him. No one else accompanied them.

“Your Majesty.” Claude nodded solemnly, like he’d never met the woman before.

“It’s _Shahbanu_ now,” Edelgard teased.

Claude burst into a short bark of laughter. “Really? You’d rather be referred to as my wife than with your own title?”

“Is that what the term means?” Pari sat with her legs underneath her between Claude and Edelgard. “How regressive.”

“Such nerve. To come begging at my feet for armies and then call my traditions regressive!” The tone in Claude’s voice belied the serious accusation of his words.

But Edelgard was not shaken. She smiled. “You implied as such, Shah. Not me.”

Claude let out a soft laugh. He turned to Pari. “And what do you think, Pari?”

“I think both of you should stop wasting my time and finish your discussion.”

If Claude was offended by her frank response, he said nothing of it. “Very well. I don’t have much to say as of now. Once I meet up with you in Fodlan, I’d like to discuss in detail our strategies for the war.”

“Meet up?” Edelgard repeated in question.

“I’ll be joining you in a week’s time after gathering my forces. It’s imperative that you return to your territory as soon as possible.”

“And why’s that?”

“Your Majesty,” Claude tutted in a tease, his eyebrows knitting together in disappointment. “Surely it’s occurred to you word of your absence would incite a rebellion in Fodlan?”

“You say it like you know it’s happened.”

“If it were me, and I were desperate for an opening, I’d absolutely make sure of it. I daresay when you return to Fodlan, you’ll already be too late.”

Edelgard scoffed. “It’s only been a week.” When Claude opened his mouth to rebut, she shushed him with a glance. “But you are right. Very well. I will return to Fodlan. When would you have me leave?”

“Today, if it would please you.”

Today? How disappointing. She’d come all this way only to be turned back? They’d signed marriage documents, sure enough, but she didn’t think he’d be so quick to get rid of her.

“Don’t look so disappointed,” Claude teased, laughter in his eyes. “Your darling husband will be back in your arms before you know it.”

Edelgard tried not to pout.

The same young man who’d been at Claude’s side during the document signing appeared in the room. He wore a simple tunic and salwar with a quiver strapped to his back, as was the fashion of most Almyran soldiers.

“Cyril will be escorting you.”

Edelgard regarded the man. “I don’t need an escort.”

“Your Majesty, it wouldn’t befit a husband to let his wife cross the border all on her lonesome. You must accept my help. Isn’t that what you married me for?”

He wanted a spy with her. She sighed.

“Very well. Come along, Cyril.”

“Just for the record,” he replied promptly as he left Claude’s side and followed Edelgard. “I don’t take orders from you.”

Claude winked. “Please forgive Cyril’s tongue. I promise beneath that thorny exterior, he’s an honest man. Far more honest than me.”

“That’s for sure.”

Edelgard was shocked. She knew of how Almyrans boasted of their king, but letting someone of such a lower standing to talk back to him? Claude was truly an enigma. She couldn’t imagine what inspired him to take Cyril as an advisor. Edelgard took her leave and exited the room, returning out into the common area before speaking to Cyril.

“Fear not,” Edelgard replied with a shake of her head. “I enjoy honesty among my ranks. You’ll fit in nicely with the rest of my forces, Cyril.”

She was pleased to see her words had a soothing effect on the stern look over Cyril’s face.

“You were employed at Garreg Mach, were you not?” Edelgard asked as they walked.

“Yes,” Cyril replied, a mournful look in his eyes. “But I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Very well. I am glad to see you safe, however.”

“You’re glad? What’s it to you whether I’m safe?”

Edelgard smiled. He wasn’t the type of man to let polite exchanges go, was he? “Well, you’re a person in your own right. And you were never my enemy. I wouldn’t wish to see anyone get hurt for nothing.”

“You’re kind of weird, Your Majesty. But I like that you’re not fake.”

Edelgard laughed. “You will most definitely enjoy our ranks.” Her confidence in her opinion vanished at the sight of Hubert at the end of the hall. “For the most part,” she finished. Dorothea accompanied him, her arm locked with his as if they were the royal couple strolling through their personal gardens. It made Hubert blush, and Edelgard surmised that was the only reason Dorothea did it.

Cyril took no notice of their affection. “Hey, it’s the snake.”

Hubert’s discomfort vanished. “Why you…What’s this brat doing with you, Your Majesty?”

“Show him some respect, Hubert,” Edelgard replied kindly. “He’s my personal escort.”

“And what, pray tell, do you need an escort for? Does the Shah believe he can accost you with whatever piffling worm he sees fit?”

“Hey, if you keep talking to me like that, I’ll report back to the Shah and he’ll have you executed,” Cyril snapped before Edelgard could defend him.

“I’d like to see you try, you little brat.”

“Call me a brat one more time and I’ll knock your teeth out.”

“And I’ll boil you alive with magic before you can even throw the first punch.”

“Big talk for a guy who looks like a twig. I could probably snap you in half with my knee.”

“I think we should just let them talk this one out,” Dorothea said before she and Edelgard exchanged glances and burst into giggles.

Claude’s mind was surprisingly fried from the day’s events. It turned out dealing with a woman from Fodlan had been as arduous as his mother had warned. Instead of backgammon at his table, he sat on the floor with a carrom board, his sister Jawaher indulging him on the other side.

She leaned down, holding her middle finger and thumb in a circle while she aimed at the striker piece. “Do you want a divorce?” She flicked her finger and the carrom pieces went ricocheting around the board.

“Hah,” Claude scoffed. “Do you peg me for a coward, Abje?” Jawaher slid the striker over to Claude’s side. He grabbed it.

“Are you sure you want to ask that question to the sister who’s regularly seen you crying because the bath water drain scared you?”

“Hey! I was five!” A loud click resounded in the room as he shot the striker across the board.

“Still speaks of your character.” Jawaher managed to pocket a piece and stuck her tongue out triumphantly. “Khalid, you are terrible at this game.”

“I’ve never been much of a sportsman,” he admitted, leaning back after another wasted turn. “I’ve always been more of a thinker. I admit defeat.”

“Oh, Khalid, giving up so soon?” The pieces clacked as Jawaher pocketed another carrom men.

“I know when I’ve lost.”

“The tide of battle could always turn in your favor.”

“Please, Abje, don’t make this game some deeper representation of my skills on the battlefield.”

Jawaher laughed as she pocketed another piece. Claude pouted.

“Well, it’s a good thing it isn’t, or you’ll be dead in the first battle.”

IV.

Edelgard slipped off her gloves and set them on the nightstand. She sat on the edge of the bed, like she was afraid of what it held at its center and stared at the small mirror on the wall in front of her.

Unlike the vast majority of her female companions, Edelgard never let her guard down, even when she went to sleep. She’d see them in loose nightgowns, revealing smallclothes and sometimes completely bare and admired their vulnerability. Her body was a reminder of her past, and she preferred to keep it tightly wrapped.

It had been a facet of her comfort and nothing more. But now she felt restless. Claude’s tenderness nights before had incited her curiosity. She wanted to know what it was like to be loved. She wanted to know what it was like to feel safe. She wanted to know what it was that sparked between Ferdinand and Hubert. She wanted that, strangely, with Claude von Riegan of all people, and not out of any innate romantic chemistry, but in a purely clinical fashion.

Edelgard dropped her face to her hands and massaged her eyelids. “This is so stupid,” she groaned to herself.

People were dying, and she was obsessed with whimsical thoughts? For the first time in a long time, from a dusty corner of her heart, anger surged through her. She was genuinely angry, but for what reason? Frustration at her failed attempts to free Fodlan? It had been years, and whose face had she seen on the battlefield? Not Rhea’s. Not the one responsible for the past thousand years of atrocities but common folk, people with homes and children who’d never wanted any part of this conflict. People who she’d never wished to fight.

She didn’t want to fight the Alliance. She didn’t want to quell rebellions the way Rhea had silenced the Western Church. She wanted to dismantle the system that had ruined her life, that had perpetuated hundreds of years of horrors against children like her. She wanted to march into the heart of Faerghus and rip Rhea’s heart from her chest.

And Byleth.

Edelgard had never expected Byleth to side with her, as much as she’d valued her as an ally. But she’d never expected this level of atrocity from her. Dimitri, the bloodthirsty prince of Faerghus, who slaughtered people like cattle, who did so under Rhea and Byleth’s banner without any punishment. Any remorse.

And now the Alliance was slipping from her grasp. She had to hurry. She had to hurry and take over Faerghus, end the brutal rule of the nobility or more, more, more people would die. More people would die and she’d just let them let them let them she was letting all of this happen when she said she would never let this happen again when she’d promised her siblings in her heart when she’d made a promise to the world and—

Edelgard slapped her face into her hands and bit down a scream.

Claude dreamt of Edelgard that night, her body and eyes white as ivory, the horned crown on her head shining in the deep pit of darkness.

She dipped her fingers into her chest and peeled her skin off her, like it was a suit she could remove. She stepped out of her body, and a monster of black muscle stared at him with deep pools of colorless eyes. Claude stared back at her, pinned in place by the invisible chains of dreams. He watched the huge wings on her back spread out—ugly, decrepit things—and fold around him like a cocoon.

Everything around him went dark. Except for the glint of her white teeth, he could see nothing. They came closer, bit down hard into his neck and jolted him awake.

Claude blinked his eyes open.

He fumbled in the dark for Pari, whom he found sound asleep beside him.*

“Pari,” he whispered, poking her in the shoulder. “Pari.”

“Nn?” she asked, turning over and slapping him in the face in her sleep. If Claude weren’t tired and nervous, he might have accused her of doing it on purpose.

“Pari,” he whispered again, just to make sure she was awake. “I had a dream about Edelgard.”

“Was she naked?” Pari asked, suddenly alert and interested.

Claude shoved her. Pari whined in protest.

“No!” he chided. “She was…”

On second thought, maybe it was better not to talk about it. His aunts always warned of how it was better not to speak of nightmares. Claude ran through a list of excuses to throw at Pari so she wouldn’t pry, but when he turned to her, she was already fast asleep again.

**Author's Note:**

> joon = dear, term of endearment that means “my life”  
> abje = sister  
> bachu = not actually a word in Farsi (come kill me) but “bacha” means “child” in both Urdu and Farsi and I’ve heard the word bachu used as a cute way to call a kid  
> harem = a women’s only quarters, I know this term has a lot of orientalism surrounding it but the harem was not some sexy virgin paradise, it was just a place for women to chill, and yes it did exist prior to islam  
> Shah = king (kind of a duh)  
> Shahanshah = king of kings  
> Suhaqiya = this is an Arabic word that means “grinder” (yes that’s what they used to call us lol) in reference to the fact that scissoring between lesbians looked like they were grinding saffron, lesbians were also referred to as “witty women” I believe the term saffron grinder was also used in Persia, but I’m going off memory and was unable to find wherever my Persian-related lesbian pdfs went 
> 
> *In my originally planned multichapter fic, there were other scenes explaining the political drama and world, including why Pari is sleeping next to Claude: she’s his spy and fakes a relationship with him to whisper secrets to him


End file.
